The Ransom of Aunt Amy
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: When THRUSH decides to kidnap Aunt Amy and Mrs. Waverly, they have no idea what sort of trouble they are going to get themselves into.


When I was a little girl, I once received a fortune that said: _You have the soul of an explorer and you will have many grand adventures._ At the time I laughed and tucked it into my change purse. I was never without it after that or great adventures from that moment onward. My life seemed filled with wonderful times – marriage, that moment my dear nephew, Napoleon, was placed in my arms for the first time.

Suffice it to say – Amy's my name and adventure is my game!

Of course, there are times when I go looking for the adventure and there are times when it comes looking for me.

"Martha, are you ready?" I was standing in the neat little entry hall of the Waverly house. Their maid, Bertha, let me in. Martha and I were ready for a day out on the town. She was getting ready to go away with Alexander to some stuffy conference. Martha wanted a new travel ensemble and I have a special knack for shopping.

Martha Waverly came down the stairs and I grinned. She was smartly dressed in a sky blue dress that brought out her eyes. I'd given it to her for Christmas and the silly thing fit as if it had been tailored for her. We had met at an UNCLE function few years earlier and we'd become fast friends.

She was an incredible woman, sharp of wit and yet compassionate. She saw the agents as extensions of her own family. I watched her shower great affection upon my dear nephew and that act alone was enough to elevate her in my eyes.

"My, that does look smart on Madame!" I teased and she paused on the landing to spin.

"I love it, Amy, and so does Alexander. He was a bit of a tiger this morning when he saw me in it."

"Still some steam in the engine?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the two Section Three agents assigned to her blush. Why is it that young people think they invented sex? Or that anyone over fifty loses their desire for intimacy? I swear these young people don't know what they are talking about.

"Oh, my, yes." Martha had the flush of love in her cheeks and that made me doubly happy. She came down and gave me a hug. "I think we scandalized Mr. Miller," she whispered into my ear.

"Good," I whispered back and we giggled like two school girls.

The day progressed much as I thought it would. We went to some of my favorite little boutique stores and in short order, we had a smart traveling outfit and accessories put together. We had lunch at Tavern on the Green. Marcel took us to my favorite table and we invited the Section Three agents to join us. I don't know which I enjoyed more, their amazement and obvious enjoyment of the meal or the looks we garnered - two older, yet still vital women with two very handsome and obviously athletic young men on our arms.

"You know what I want more than anything now?" Martha asked me as we exited the restaurant. Considering the meal we had just finished, I couldn't even begin to guess. The nice thing about getting older is that you can eat what you want and not worry about it. When you get to my age, life is far too short to worry about calories.

"What, Martha?"

"Let's take a stroll through the park and feed the pigeons."

I laughed, inwardly chastising myself. Of course, that would be her desire. She loved pigeons, although I was never really sure what attracted her to them. Flying rats, Napoleon called them and I was inclined to agree.

We stopped to buy some peanuts and began to feed the birds. I was happily sleepy after our meal and it felt good to sit in the sun and toast my bones. The Section Three agents melted into the background and it was just me and my good friend.

That was when I realized something was wrong. I couldn't keep my eyes open and a quick look to my right told me Martha was in the same state. I tried to stand and catch the eye of the agents, but my knees went all wobbly and then everything went dark.

"Amy? Oh, Amy, please wake up!"

Martha's voice was tinged with hysteria and I blinked open my eyes. Resisting the urge to moan, I sat up and instantly regretted the action.

"It'll get better in a minute. There's a washroom in there." Martha pointed to a partially closed door, but I wasn't up to it.

"Just let me sit for a moment. Martha, what on earth happened?"

"I think we've been kidnapped."

Looking around the room, I knew something was amiss. It was bare bones plain. Two cots, a small table and two chairs, the door that led to the bathroom (at least we would have privacy for that!), a second door, which I assumed was the way out, and not much else.

"Oh, oh, my." I took a deep breath and struggled to my feet. I walked to the closed door and tried the knob. It was locked, but I'd have felt the fool if it wasn't and I didn't even think to try it. Napoleon would never let me hear the end of it.

Then I smiled and reached for my locket. It was a pretty heart-shaped thing. On one side was a photo of my beloved Albert and on the other was a photo of Napoleon and Illya. It wasn't particularly valuable except that it had a homing device on the back of it. I found the tiny switch and carefully twisted it on. Now we just had to trust technology and Napoleon to come through.

I tucked the locket back away and knocked on the door, a brisk no nonsense rap. "Hello!"

There was the sound of approaching footsteps and the door opened. The man in the doorway had a look of menace to him, but I guessed it had more to do with height than his muscles. Honestly, he seemed all belly at second glance.

"Hey, hey, Roger, the birds are awake."

"I beg your pardon! Just because you are rogues and kidnappers, that doesn't excuse you from exercising proper manners. I am Mrs. Amy Solo; you will address me as Mrs. Solo or ma'am. Do I make myself quite clear?"

The man looked like a deer caught in headlights. He looked confused for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"That's much better, thank you. And you are?"

"Johnny, ma'am."

Roger chose that moment to join us and looked at his partner as if he'd lost his mind. He pushed his way into the room and studied us. He was a little rat of a man with a long face and pointy nose. I swear he looked just like a rat.

"You just pipe down, old lady."

Martha was in his face before the words left his mouth. The last thing you ever called either of us was old. She had Roger backed into a corner and was giving him an earful before I had time to laugh. Johnny just stared as if he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Johnny, this room is very dirty. If you are intending to keep us here for any length of time, I will need - nay, I demand - a broom, a dustpan, a mop, a general cleaner, a bucket, and some rags."

"Get off me!" Roger had pushed free of Martha. It was not that easy a task for him when you figured Martha was almost twice his size. Obviously, he must be the brains in the outfit. He had no brawn.

For a moment, Johnny looked confused and thoroughly conflicted.

"Hop to it now!" I slapped my hands together and Johnny jumped a foot. He scurried off and Roger looked after him.

"Wait, what are you doing, you great dumb ass?" Roger shouted to Johnny's back.

"Language!" Martha snapped and he glared back at her.

"Listen, you ol'… broad…"

"Try again."

For a moment, Roger's mouth just worked and then he muttered, "Ma'am."

"See? Now, isn't that much easier?"

"We need you to write a note to your husband. We want a million dollars for the pair of you. If he don't -"

"Doesn't," I corrected.

"Doesn't… it'll be curtains for you two."

"I think curtains would be nice in here. It would be nicer if we had a window, though. Don't you have a nice room? And some throw pillows? And tea, I'd like some tea now, please." I pointed and to my amazement, he left, apparently, to get our tea. He shut the door behind him and my knees buckled. I collapsed onto my cot and wrapped my arms around me.

"I'm so scared." Martha's voice was a peep and that gave me the strength to rise and go to her, hugging her slight form to me.

"Napoleon tells me there's nothing wrong with being scared, but you can't let it define you or your actions."

"You will never convince me that that nice Mr. Solo or attractive Mr. Kuryakin are afraid of anything."

She might not, but I'd seen the dread in my nephew's eyes when Illya had gone missing or the great sadness and worry in Illya's eyes when tending to an injured Napoleon. "You'd be surprised, Martha. I think those two young men know great fear."

"What are we going to do?"

"Napoleon gave me this locket. It has a homing device in it. All we have to do is keep up a brave front until our men come for us."

"I don't know if I can."

"Of course, you can! You're a Waverly, after all. You're made of stern stuff."

"I did rather frighten that young man, didn't I?"

I gave her a reassuring hug. "Now, the trick is to not let them catch their breaths long enough to figure out something is wrong with this set up.

And we never did.

"But, Ma'am, I don't knit."

"You should, Johnny. It's very calming. Now, needles and some yarn, please. I don't care what color."

"Oh, Jez… Yes, Mrs. Solo."

"There's a good boy."

"Roger, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Waverly?"

"Do you know what would be delicious right now? Cucumber sandwiches. Do you know how to make them in the proper British fashion?"

"I have a feeling I'm about to learn…"

By the time Alexander, Napoleon and Illya broke through the door, poor Johnny and Roger were the ones who needed rescuing.

Martha and I were sitting, with our feet up on a coffee table, while Johnny scrubbed the floor and Roger peeled potatoes.

"You know, I told THRUSH this was a stupid idea," Roger muttered. He nicked his finger and began to swear, but a glare from Martha made him cram the digit into his mouth instead. His frilly apron was very becoming.

"But, Roger, THRUSH doesn't make mistakes."

"Kidnapping these two just doesn't make any sense to me. Who'd want them back?"

The last sentence was muttered and I hid my smile. We really had ridden them hard and put them away wet. "Did you ever think that perhaps THRUSH had intended for you to fail and then they would be rid of you?"

"No way, ma'am. My cousin runs the satrap and he said he had a special spot for me and Johnny."

"Yeah, except we don't know where except it has to be something inside. He said something about the sun not shining there." Johnny sat back on his heels. "Where doesn't the sun shine, ma'am? Cause I can't figure it myself."

Martha looked up from her own knitting. "Oh, I can think of a few places."

Just then there was noise in the hall and the door burst open. Alexander stormed in, looking ever so fierce and determined. Napoleon followed, but both he and Illya appeared more worried than anything else. Neither THRUSH agent moved a muscle.

The UNCLE agents skidded to a stop at the sight before them.

"Take your shoes off," Martha ordered. "Johnny has been working hard on that floor and you shouldn't track it up. Roger, I think we are going to need a few more potatoes if these gentlemen are joining us."

"Is she yours?" Roger looked from Napoleon to Illya and then back to Napoleon. "You have my sympathies."

"Hell, you can have them," Johnny agreed as he got to his feet, one hand massaging the small of his back. I have to admit, the floor was sparkling. "I'm beat."

We were quite the talk of HQ after that. Both Roger and Johnny willingly admitted to their crimes and turned against THRUSH. I would like to think they had not only seen the errors of their ways but also recognized as class outfit when they saw it. Mostly, I think it was to keep Roger's cousin from finding out.

Alexander was quite proud of how Martha had handled the situation, although he now assigns three Section Three agents to her and they never eat on duty.

As for me, well, Napoleon and Illya fussed over me and that was all well and fine. I don't think either of us minded being the center of attention for awhile. Just whatever you do, don't think that we aren't capable or sly - and never, ever - call us old.


End file.
